


Lost in Savage Time

by littlechinesedoll



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 11:11:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5583613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlechinesedoll/pseuds/littlechinesedoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“My Alpha—my mate—was Clark Kent, a journalist at the Daily Planet,” said the Batman of The Resistance. “Like my parents, he was killed for speaking out against the regime,”</p><p>Based on Episode 24 of Justice League: The Savage Time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost in Savage Time

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this at the beach. my dad had to go tend to his guests so i had to stay in the room. i was bored, and thought of this. hastily written around after midnight. im sorry if it doesn't make any sense and for the typos. 
> 
> this is based on episode 24 of justice league: the savage time

“You,” said the Batman of the resistance.

“Me?” said Superman, just to make sure that Batman was talking to him.

“Come with me,” he turned halfway to let Superman know they were going somewhere else. “The rest of you, stay here. Oracle,”

“Yes?” a young woman with red hair stepped up.

“Keep an eye on them,”

“Sure thing,” Oracle said lightly as she watched Batman lead Superman away from them. “So,” she turned to their guests and gave them a sympathetic smile. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here?”

Flash let out a sigh. “Not from around here might be an understatement,”

* * *

 

Batman led Clark to a far off room. The hallway leading to it was dim, but the room itself was a little more brightly lit and looked like a makeshift sickbay. There was a single sized mattress on the floor, medical equipment, bandages and disinfectant on a tray beside it. There was a sink, with a faucet that continuously dripped, and above it a medicine cabinet with a broken mirror.

Batman took off his helmet and set it down on the table near the door before peeling off the rest of his armor, leaving him in a white undershirt and boxers. He looked…just like his Bruce. But what upset him was that he was pale, sweaty, and looked exhausted. He favored his midsection, which was distended, something Clark didn’t notice with all the armor on.

“Hey, you okay?” Clark asked worriedly, but didn’t hesitate to touch him and assist him down onto the mattress on the floor. He sat next to the mattress, unsure of what else to do.

“Is your name Clark?” Batman heaved, trying to suppress as a groan as he tried to find a comfortable way to lie down.

“What?” Clark’s eyes widened.

“Is your name,” he repeated hopefully. “Clark Kent?”

Clark had second thoughts about revealing that, but he couldn’t help but tell him the truth. “Yes,” he said. “My name is Clark Kent,”

Relief washed over the man’s face. He smiled. “Clark,” he reached for Clark’s face, but before he could touch Clark’s cheek, his face scrunched up as he bent over in pain.

“What’s going on?” Clark, horrified at the scene before him, sat up in alarm.

“My name is Bruce,” he said after a while. He leaned on the wall the behind mattress, and took a few breaths to calm himself. “I’m an Omega,”

Clark’s eyes widened. “Y-you’re…?” he could have figured that out, but Clark hated using his powers to tell what was going on with a person.

“My Alpha—my mate—was Clark Kent, a journalist at the Daily Planet,” Bruce continued.

Clark frowned. He didn’t like the use of past tense. “Was?” he said cautiously. Somehow the similarity between this Bruce’s Clark and himself was frightening him.

“Like my parents, he was killed for speaking out against the regime,” he said wistfully. “He was tired of the regime controlling what the Daily Planet wrote about and what they published. We met because of his works,” he looked at Clark. “And you look just like him,”

“Is…” Clark started. “Is your…?” he swallowed, feeling a little discomfort the way the next few words would sound if he said them out loud.

“Yes,” Bruce nodded. “The child is  _his_ ,” he hissed the last word, feeling his belly tighten and the pressure worsen. He groaned, and let out a strangled sound as he got onto his knees.

Clark gasped, and immediately helped Bruce get to the position he wanted. He took his hand, assuming Bruce would need something to hold on to. “You mean to say, when you were out there a few hours ago helping run from the authorities, you were—”

“In labor, yes,” Bruce gritted through his teeth as he held onto Clark’s hand tightly. “I have been, for most of the day. My water broke before I suited up to get you,”

Clark’s brows met. What if they hadn’t made it? What if he got hurt? What if the bab—

“Somebody had to come and get you,” Bruce grunted.

What? Did Clark say that out loud?

“And nobody knows,” Bruce panted, “Except my eldest son,”

“What?” Clark said incredulously. A pregnant omega without anyone looking after him! “What about your medic? Your medic should know this, should be looking after you!”

“If she knew,” he swallowed, feeling the exhaustion catch up to him. “We’d all be dead,”

“Well, your baby would be dead too! Did you ever stop to think of that?” Clark glowered at him.

Bruce’s shoulders slumped. Clark didn’t know if that was because the contraction had ended, or because he said something that touched a nerve.

“Every day, Clark,” he whispered. “If an Omega loses an Alpha, most of the time the Omega soon follows due to depression. But I didn’t, I fought it, so that I can continue fighting another battle, so that Clark’s death won’t be in vain. Then I found out about the baby. That’s why I’m still fighting, so that this child could have a chance at a future. I will never stop fighting. I want this child to know that his father and I fought for him,”

An overwhelming sense of sadness fell over Clark. “Did you love him?”

“Clark?” Bruce let out a gruff noise as he again clutched onto Clark’s hand tightly. “Yes,”

“Someone’s coming,” said Clark, hearing someone running down the hallway.

The door opened. It was one of the children. Well, one of the young men. He quickly gathered the towels from the cupboards, and turned on the faucet to wet one of the smaller ones.

“Dick, he’s coming,” Bruce didn’t have enough energy to keep himself upright, and leaned into Clark. He breathed through the contraction, resisting the urge to push.

“Alright,” Dick hurriedly set the towels down near them, and cut Bruce’s boxers off with the scissors used for bandages. He set the torn clothing aside, and put towels between Bruce’s legs.

Bruce moved his hands to Clark’s shoulders, gripping tightly as he bore down.

“Slow down, Bruce, breathe,” said Dick gently.

“Have to,” Bruce said as he struggled to breathe. “Get him out—!” his words were lost as he groaned. His body was hurrying, forcing the baby out that he couldn’t keep up and catch his breath.

“Stop pushing, Bruce, or you’ll tear,” Dick put a gentle hand on Bruce’s shin.

“I can’t!” Bruce let out a low, rumbling, drawn out grunt, probably just as long as the contraction lasted.

Clark couldn’t speak, or form words, not even thoughts. He was watching his best friend, teammate, lover, and hopefully mate, give birth. He could see Bruce’s midsection visibly contract, forcing, pushing the child out.

“Bruce, you have to slow down,” said Dick worriedly, “Please,”

“Look at me,” Clark didn’t know why he said that. “C’mon,”

Bruce looked up at him.

“Breathe with me, c’mon,” he said encouragingly, and tried doing the breathing exercises he always saw around, on screen or otherwise. “Let your body do the work for you, it knows what to do,”

Bruce nodded, and did the breathing as Clark did it.

“That’s it,” Clark gave him a small smile, and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Breathe through it,”

Bruce breathed through a couple of the contractions, each getting more painful, longer, and worsening the pressure inside him. “I have to—I have to—!” he couldn’t help but lean further into Clark. Clark had no choice but to hold him, and somehow be his support. Bruce gave one last push, then relaxed when the pressure disappeared, and when the baby dropped into Dick’s waiting hands.

“Oh, Bruce,” Dick smiled when the baby started crying as soon as his airway was cleared. “Look at him,” he said as he carefully and gently cleaned him off with the damp towel. 

Clark slowly handled Bruce back onto the bed, his back on the pillows against the wall. Dick placed the crying infant on Bruce’s chest. The baby stopped crying, and settled down. He felt like it was a scene he shouldn’t be in.

“Congratulations,” said Clark genuinely. “He’s beautiful,”

“He is,” agreed Bruce, carefully studying the child’s face.

Bruce hadn’t been too big, but the baby looked perfectly fine and wasn’t small. In fact, he looked just the right size for newborn. Seven pounds, probably, Clark thought. Not bad. He watched as Dick cut the cord.

“You know,” Clark started softly. “I have a Bruce like you, too,” he watched as the baby opened his eyes. They were blue. “He has a son named Dick, too,” he looked at Dick. “He likes children, and he fights for those who can’t fight for themselves,”

“Really?” Dick sat up in interest.

“Yeah,” Clark nodded. He wanted to continue and say the things he loved most about Bruce, but he didn’t want to do that this time’s Bruce. He didn’t want this Bruce to hear someone who looked so much like his mate, talk about someone else.

“Thank you for being here, Clark,” said Bruce warmly.

“Thank you for letting me be here for you, Bruce,” he squeezed Bruce’s hand. “I should give you some privacy,” he stood up, and move to leave the room, thinking this should be a moment between family members, and that he was there just as a proxy.

“Stay,” said Bruce before Clark could open the door. “Just for a little bit,”

* * *

 

The child—Conner, Bruce had named him—had blue eyes. Bruce said Conner had his father’s eyes. Just like Clark’s eyes. But Clark couldn’t see it. But he could see he was healthy. He had an adorable button nose, and all his ten tiny fingers and toes. He had bright blue eyes, and a tuft of black hair.  He had a strong set of lungs, and a strong beating heart.

What Clark could see made his chest constrict in agitation. It upset him that he was seeing Bruce, even though he wasn’t his Bruce, this way. He had a son on a mattress on the floor, in a cold room that was far from sanitary, in an underground abandoned train station platform, with no medical assistance.

“Here,” said Dick, handing over a clean towel to Bruce so that he could swaddle the baby and keep him warm.

When the child started to fuss, Clark stood up. “I’ll leave you to bond with your baby, Bruce,” he said, hoping that Bruce wouldn’t find his aloofness and desire to keep him at arm’s length offensive. He just didn’t want to become too invested in the hopefully limited amount of time they were together in this time, and seek the same from his own Bruce when he came back home to him.

Bruce brought the child to his chest and shared his warmth. “Thank you again, Clark,”

Clark stood at the door, holding the knob as if waiting for Bruce to once again ask him to stay. “You’re welcome. And congratulations again, Bruce,” he said, and left the room.

* * *

 

“What are you doing up so soon?” Clark asked worriedly when he saw Bruce about three hours later. “Where’s the—”

“He’s with Leslie, my medic,” answered Bruce as he put his helmet back on. “You were saying something about a pulse you detected earlier?” Bruce made his way to the computer. “I know where it came from,”

* * *

 

“Wait,” said Batman, “Are you saying that my world, my whole life is like this because someone went back in time and changed the past?”

“That appears to be the case,” answered J’onn.

“Then doing this can save my parents,” Batman said thoughtfully.

“I can’t promise that,” frowned Superman.

“Will you come with us?” Hawkgirl asked, hoping Batman would consider helping them.

“No,” Batman answered immediately. “If this doesn’t work, someone’s got to stay here and fight,”

“You understand that if we do change the past,” J’onn walked up to him, “You, this version of you, will never have existed,”

However the future might change because they altered the past, as long as he would never have to birth a child into a time like this, as long as they would never have to fear what to say, that would be better than the life they were living now. “Nothing would make me happier,” he told J’onn. He turned to the rest of them. “Now go,”  

And Batman watched as the League jumped into the black hole.

* * *

 

“I should have known you’d be here,”

They turned to the voice, and saw Batman coming out of the shadows.

“The instruments in the Watchtower picked up this anomaly a few hours ago,”

Clark smiled. He grinned, the corners of his mouth reaching his ears as he ran over to him. “Batman! It’s really you!” he said excitedly as he pulled him into a hug.

“Am I missing something?” Batman asked, his delivery still flat but with a hint of confusion and curiosity.

Clark’s brows shot up. “Um, sorry, it’s just that,” he said, letting go as the embarrassment made the blush spread from his cheeks to his ears. “Well, it’s a long story,”

John shook his head. He, Diana, and J’onn fondly smiled at Clark’s honesty.

“You’re not going to believe what we’ve been through!” said Hawkgirl. 

“Try me,” said Batman.

* * *

 

“Something wrong?” Bruce asked, sliding a mug of coffee over to Clark. Bruce decided that maybe some coffee and desserts at the manor might do Clark good after what they went through, fighting World War II.

Clark took once last look at the setting sun, then looked at his reflection in the coffee mug. “The Bruce from the alternate timeline. He…” Clark paused. “He lost his Clark,”

Bruce froze in his seat.

“They were mates, and his Clark was killed because he spoke up against the regime,” Clark didn’t look away from his mug of coffee. He didn’t’ want to see the look on Bruce’s face. “And the Bruce there was left with their baby. I helped him deliver and his son, he was beautiful…I just. I don’t know how to feel about it,” he finally lifted his head to look at Bruce. “He…I’ve never felt so helpless. I couldn’t do anything to make him feel better or ease his pain. I mean, he gave birth in a makeshift sickbay, in the middle of a war, and he fought while pregnant I just…”

“Hey,” Bruce reached for his hand and to give it a reassuring squeeze. “You said so yourself, he doesn’t exist anymore, so all the struggles he went through are now gone. He didn’t go through them. Is that why you greeted me like that back at the research center?”

Clark bashfully nodded. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I just…maybe it’s because I thought it was really you.  _You_ told me Bruce, that I got myself killed, that I left you, with our baby, fighting a battle—a war—that I swore to fight with you. I mean, the Clark Kent he was with probably wasn’t me, probably someone else—” Clark pulled Bruce to his lap, into an embrace, and buried his face into his neck. “I love you,”

The action caught Bruce by surprise. He returned the embrace tenderly. “Clark,” Bruce said softly, “Tell me about our son,” (1)

 

**Author's Note:**

> (1) Like how Shayera asked Bruce to tell her about Warhawk at the end of “Once and Future Thing.”
> 
> please be nice ;_;


End file.
